


Full (stop)

by RoughTweedAction (Donya)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Double Anal Penetration, I couldn't leave the fandom without this, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 17:21:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13745700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donya/pseuds/RoughTweedAction
Summary: Sherlock discovers how to satisfy his two tops with, er, one stone. Double fiku-miku, half-Holmescest, half-Sherstrade.





	Full (stop)

Sherlock was restless the whole day. It was supposed to happen that night and he couldn't wait. His constant fidgeting and glancing at the clock caught John's attention.

'Are you waiting for someone?'

'No. I have a meeting tonight,' Sherlock replied bit nervously, 'with Mycroft.'

With Mycroft and Greg Lestrade. It'd been a couple of months since Greg joined them, the phase of initial awkwardness was over and the time came for the obvious next step. Sherlock didn't quite remember who said it out loud first, clearly, all three parties had been considering double penetration. Sherlock loved the arrangement they had, Greg would have him first, gently and lovingly, then Mycroft would reclaim his possession of him, delightfully roughly. But he wanted more and was curious about his own limits.

The first attempt was a memorable failure. Greg and Mycroft tried to spit-roast him and promptly discovered that it was beyond Sherlock's abilities. One would think that years of holding a torch between his teeth and stuffing his mouth with a dozen of cigarettes helped Sherlock control his gag reflex. In reality, giving oral sex was quite a challenge for him, despite his eagerness. To his disappointment, he couldn't handle a cock in his mouth when another one was thrusting into his arse. Greg tried to make it easier for him, stroked his hair, his neck, whispered comforting nonsense to him and in return, Sherlock grazed his shaft with his teeth and gagged. Greg gave up and let Sherlock enjoy his time with Mycroft.

There was another way for Sherlock to have them both simultaneously. Mycroft, the biggest obstacle, was actually very supportive. Sherlock knew what that was all about. Mycroft had always wanted to fist him, every time he was stretching Sherlock, he would talk about it, wondered if Sherlock could take it. Mycroft seemed content with just talking about it and didn't pressure Sherlock into giving it a go. Now, however, they had an opportunity to find out just how flexible Sherlock was.

When Greg was digesting the news and thinking if things between him and the Holmes brothers went too far, Mycroft and Sherlock set to work. Mycroft started with just a tip of his finger. Sherlock spread his knees even more, rested his forehead on his folded arms and waited. Mycroft was already inside him, not moving. Instead, he was lazily tracing Sherlock's rim with his index finger.

'I can take that,' Sherlock remarked, frustrated with the lack of action. 'If you're going to take this long with- ah!' Sherlock regretted opening his mouth, he couldn't stifle the loud gasp when Mycroft pushed in.

After the first shock, Sherlock realised it was not only bearable but also quite pleasant. Mycroft kept the finger inside the whole time, which didn't last long anyway, they both found it too exciting to control themselves. Next time, with two fingers, lasted longer. Sherlock took deep breaths, concentrating on relaxing his muscles. Mycroft was rocking his hips, slower than usual due to the tightness. It was maddening. It went on and on, Sherlock panting into the pillow and Mycroft filling him as much as he could. When he started moving his fingers and his cock in alternate rhythms, Sherlock was lost.

'This is for you,' Mycroft said one night as he handed Sherlock a little box.

Sherlock, for once, didn't waste time on deductions and simply opened the box. 'Huh. This... is great,' he mumbled, staring at a slim dildo. It was something a complete novice would use, thinking that it would feel like the real thing. Then it dawned on him and he grinned at his amused brother. 'Undress, now. We have to try this _now_.'

Once again, he found himself on all fours, patiently prepared by Mycroft. After a couple of good, deep thrusts, Mycroft paused to insert the dildo, slowly but steadily. Sherlock closed his eyes, tried not to hold his breath. It hurt and he struggled to stay still, but as the dildo sank in deeper and deeper, he felt something else, a new kind of pleasure. Not only physical. He could picture how he looked, stretched unreasonably wide, shivering and sweating, and it was happening because he allowed it. That was hot. He knew he was hard, but didn't dare move to touch it. Mycroft didn't bother with it either, he didn't want Sherlock to come too soon. Ignoring his erection, though, wasn't enough to stop Sherlock's sudden orgasm. Mycroft gave him a moment to catch a breath when the dildo was all the way in and then slipped only a tip of his finger inside his brother. It was more than enough to push Sherlock over the edge.

'Look at you,' Mycroft muttered as he was withdrawing the dildo. 'I think a cock ring is necessary if we want to enjoy it a little longer.'

 

Having discussed the details with Greg, Mycroft chose the date. Sherlock almost prayed for idiotic cases; a nice, complicated murder to solve would only complicate things. He didn't want John to question his plan to stay the night at Mycroft's and it'd be a shame if Greg was suddenly needed at a crime scene. Miraculously, the thieves and killers of the UK all took a break from their usual activities and Sherlock could join forces with his DI and his brother to break yet another taboo.

Mycroft was feeling generous. He had had a long list of rules that were supposed to remind Sherlock and Greg that they weren't a couple, including bondage. For that one night, he let Greg be as affectionate and gentle as he wanted. Greg was grateful for that, he was already nervous about Sherlock's well-being.

As soon as the cock ring was where it belonged, it started. Greg didn't want to waste the rare opportunity to have Sherlock the way he wanted. Although he still had to use a condom and Mycroft wasn't going to leave them alone even for a second, it was amazing. Sherlock thought so, too. He got what he quietly wanted, a wider range of motions and Greg's lips around him. Mycroft jealously wanted to keep Sherlock's cock to himself and that was the first time Greg could have any contact with it. Sherlock was impatient. A lovely blowjob wasn't going to make anything easier. Greg knew that as well. He wanted Sherlock on his back, of course, a with all the tenderness and intimacy possible. Sherlock eagerly lay in the middle of the bed and pulled Greg to him. held onto his arms. Greg's fingers brushed against his entrance, smearing the lube, then slipped in, one by one. They were kissing the entire time, Greg foolishly thought Sherlock needed comfort at that point. He didn't, but also didn't complain.

When Greg finally entered him, Sherlock wrapped his legs around him. Greg, in response, embraced him and Sherlock returned the gesture, only partially to fuel Mycroft's jealousy. Greg started moving, slowly building a rhythm. Sherlock tried not to think and just feel. He and Greg couldn't be any closer, face to face, joined together, moving together. He palmed Greg's shoulders, his neck, his back. He could feel his orgasm building and whined when he remembered how far away he was achieving it. Greg knew what he needed and sped up. He only stopped when Mycroft told him to. 

While Greg was trying to compose himself, Mycroft took his place. He most often asked Sherlock to turn around, but not that time. Perhaps he was curious if Sherlock would cling to him too. Sherlock did, for a short time. He knew that cuddling and sweet, soft kisses had to wait. Mycroft quickly found the right pace, his thursts were hard and deep, aimed not to give him easy pleasure, but to open him up.

The final position was a bit of a problem in itself. Obviously, Greg would be the top on the bottom. He wasn't obsessed with power and control and would gladly support Sherlock. Sherlock assumed he would be lying on Greg on his back, so Mycroft could see his face and ensure that Greg remembered his place. Mycroft surprised him, he was aware of how overwhelming it could be for Sherlock and wanted Greg to soothe him. So, when Mycroft was done, Greg lay on his back and Sherlock crawled towards him. He straddled his thighs, added more lube and lowered himself on his length. They both made the same sound, equally happy with the situation. Sherlock rolled his hips, watching Greg's face. That went on longer than they expected, Mycroft was unusually indulgent with Sherlock that night.

But Sherlock wanted something more than riding his favourite detective. He looked over his shoulder to give Mycroft a sign. Soon, there was a hand on his back, encouraging him to lie on Greg. Instantly, he felt Greg's lips on his neck and his hands on his buttocks. Greg was spreading him for Mycroft. Sherlock stayed more or less quiet when the first finger was inserted. It was the third that made him break the silence.

'Get on with it, Mycroft!'

Sherlock and Greg went still when Mycroft got closer and knelt between Greg's legs, right behind Sherlock. He put one hand on Sherlock's lower back to steady him. Sherlock, with his face pressed into the bedding and eyes shut, could only feel what was going on. The tip of Mycroft's cock rubbing between his cheeks, nudging his rim. He reminded himself to breathe through it.

'This is going to be easier if you relax,' Greg said, nuzzling Sherlock's neck.

Sherlock smiled fondly at that, glad that Greg didn't see his face.

Meanwhile, Mycroft lined up and began pushing in. All three of them fell silent. It lasted so long for just the head to pop in, for Sherlock it was an eternity of pressure, pain and uncertainty if he could stand another second of it. Talking and moving suddenly became an unaffordable luxury. All he could do was to breathe and wait for the pain to subside. He was dimly aware of hands touching him, lips kissing him. Mycroft moved forward a little more, then again, a little deeper. Finally, he stopped and Sherlock heard his own cry. Greg moved his hands to Sherlock's back, held him close. Mycroft gave him a moment to gather himself and then asked how he was feeling.

The lack of a sarcastic reply was unsurprising. Sherlock was debating with himself if having them both at the same time was manageable. He couldn't imagine pushing back into Mycroft's lap or showing any sign of engagement. Mycroft gently cupped his cheeks in his palms, leant down to kiss Sherlock's back. Greg was caressing him too, constantly assuring him he was a good boy.

Sherlock finally found the strength to answer Mycroft's question. 'Fine,' he said, his voice strained.

'All right. I'll go slow, relax.'

Sherlock tried to relax. His mind wandered off, he suddenly felt like he was twenty-something again, when he was losing his virginity. The sensation was similar, the discomfort and intensity were the same. Back then, he was inexperienced, didn't know what to expect. It was nothing like his solo experiments. Mycroft felt huge and tears were streaming down Sherlock's face. His joyous predictions about their future faded, he decided to endure that one time and then never have sex again, but then the earth started shaking and his cries became moans and he knew there would be a next time.

Mycroft was gliding inside him, gradually picking up the pace. Greg was panting. Sherlock wondered how it felt for them. Certainly easier. Squeezed together inside him, desperately trying to hold off their orgasms.

Mycroft reached down to grab Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock tensed up, afraid that Mycroft would use the grip as a leverage to thrust in deeper.

'Come here,' Mycroft said, 'straighten your back.'

That was easier said than done. Sherlock's breath hitched as he carefully lifted his upper body. Mycroft paused again and pulled Sherlock to him.

'Do you want this off?' Mycroft dragged his finger over the ring. Sherlock nodded and looked down to see Mycroft ease it off. Greg was running his hands up and down his thighs. Mycroft closed his hand around Sherlock's erection and Sherlock groaned. He liked the new position, leaning against Mycroft's chest and staring down at Greg, but he also felt sore and wasn't convinced he could climax while they were inside him.

Mycroft was nearing the edge and wanted Sherlock to join him. He tightened his grip on Sherlock, moved his hand faster. He snapped his hips against him more forcefully and whispered in Sherlock's ear, 'You'll be all stretched out and loose afterwards. I could finally fist you and you wouldn't cry.'  

Sherlock could feel the pleasure building up and thrust his hips into Mycroft's fist, then back on his cock. Unexpectedly, Greg made a feeble attempt at fucking into Sherlock, then again and came, looking rather startled by it. Sherlock was so relieved, Greg shifted back on the bed, leaving him with Mycroft. 

Sherlock let out a moan, grinding down onto Mycroft's lap. His body was still rocked by Mycroft's hips, harder now. Greg was still there, watching them and Sherlock wanted him to like what he saw. He knew how he looked, wanton, sweaty, used. He moaned a little louder and reached between his thighs. He cupped Mycroft's balls, thumbed his own opening and, on an impulse, slid his thumb into his hole.

'Insatiable, aren't you?' Mycroft chuckled darkly. His hand left Sherlock's cock and was suddenly on Sherlock's throat. Not quite squeezing, just resting, but for Sherlock that was enough. The wave of heat and pleasure was so intense he screamed and shuddered in Mycroft's embrace. It had Mycroft coming a moment later, his come leaking out on the bed.

Sherlock slumped against Mycroft, too worn-out to do anything else. His whimpers and the trembling of his body didn't seem to stop and he didn't want Mycroft to leave him even for a second. He craved his affection and fortunately, didn't need to ask for it. Mycroft kissed his cheek, his neck, saying, 'Good boy, Sherlock, you took it so well.'

 

The morning after was one big surprise. Sherlock fell asleep lying on his side, between Mycroft and Greg. Greg had never stayed the night and when Sherlock opened his eyes in the morning, he was alone with his brother. Sherlock got up, knowing that it was best to leave while Mycroft was still sleeping. Neither of them was a morning lark and most of their conflicts occurred before the morning coffee. Even after such a hard night, Sherlock couldn't expect breakfast in bed or even a humble cuppa. Mycroft most likely would bark at him grumpily.

Sherlock carefully went down the stairs, thirsty and hungry and annoyed he had to make his own breakfast. He heard a noise coming from the kitchen and smelt coffee and toasts. Greg was still there, vigorously whisking the eggs in a bowl. He greeted Sherlock with a smile.

'Oh, hi, you're up. I was hoping you'd sleep a little longer, your breakfast is almost ready. How do you like your eggs?'

Sherlock had never been happier to have included Greg in his intimate relationship. 'Scrambled.'

**Author's Note:**

> And now my work here is done.


End file.
